


Under the Same Stars

by sailorgreywolf



Series: Rarepair Week Winter 2018 [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Cold War, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 16:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17287475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorgreywolf/pseuds/sailorgreywolf
Summary: A hesitant rapprochement at the beginning of the Cold War between two former lovers.





	Under the Same Stars

-1950-

The stars were shining over the city which was neither quiet nor still. It was a sedate night, but there was life below. On the balcony of a building that seemed to stand alone among its destroyed companions, there was a blonde man looking out at the world. 

Poland put his hands against the railing and let out a slow sigh. He wasn’t certain what he had come up here to find, but peace wasn’t possible. Meaning was too lofty of a goal. Who could find meaning in a world so senseless? 

He was too lost in his own thoughts to hear the sound of someone else approaching behind him. He did not register their presence until a voice said, “It won’t work if you jump. I’ve tried.”

Poland turned his head to see a familiar face, though one he had not seen since this terrible business had started, with a sardonic smile that seemed less humorous than it had in happier times. The wit was usual, the despair it hid was new. Saxony leaned against the railing of the balcony. 

Poland responded, “I wouldn’t. I might hurt my beautiful face, and that would be truly tragic.”   
It didn’t feel as genuine as his usual confidence, but it was enough to elicit a small chuckle from Saxony. He replied, “You are one of a kind, Felix.” 

Poland couldn’t quite tell if that was a compliment or a remark about his arrogance, but he would rather believe that it was a compliment. 

Saxony then said, all trace of mockery gone from his voice, “What are you doing up here, then?” 

Poland wished he could answer that question for himself. But, in truth, he had just wanted a chance to spend time away from the maddening crowd or the politicians who were pretending that they weren’t Russian puppets meant to keep him in line. 

He said, “What would you say if I said I wanted to be alone?”   
Saxony tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, and Poland felt the ghost of a memory from so long ago. Another lifetime ago, he had been the one who had so casually brushed back that hair. The reply came quickly, “I would say that is no way to talk to your ex-husband.”

Poland scoffed. Their marriage had been long ago and shorter than either of them would have liked. Saxony added with a sly smirk, “And I would say that I brought beer.” 

That fact was enough to pique Poland’s interest. He turned completely to look at his companion, who had already pried the top off of a beer and was offering it to him. 

Poland took it and said, “It better be good beer.”   
Saxony laughed again and said, “You know, I wouldn’t buy anything cheap. But this is communist beer, so who can say.” 

Poland shrugged as he took the bottle and took a long drink. It was soothing at least in its own way. There were a few moments of silence between the two of them and the expansive night sky.

Saxony spoke again, “So are you going to tell me what is going on in that pretty head of yours? Or do you want me to guess?”

Poland sighed and looked up at the sky above the broken city. He could try to keep it all to himself, and he was tempted to. Who would care about the woes of a former power so readily stripped of any glory he had once had? 

But, Saxony was looking at him with compassion, and his mere presence suggested that he did care. So, Poland let out a long sigh and started to try to put his racing thoughts into words, “The world is a cold place. I tried so hard to build something beautiful and lasting. I wanted to be surrounded by glorious things, even when I knew I had lost.”

He looked up, across what had once been a bustling square, and felt the same painful sting in his heart. The words, now that they had been unleashed, were now flowing freely, “I thought if I could not have power, I could at least continue to live beautifully. But-“ 

He broke off and looked over at Saxony, who was listening attentively. For someone who seemed to always to have a quick remark on his lips, he was being mercifully quiet.

Poland looked across the space to the pile of rubble that felt like it had broken the last pride he had in his past. There had once been a castle there. It had been where his royalty had lived when Warsaw had become the capital. But, it had been leveled so effectively that it hardly seemed worth picking up the bricks and trying to put back together. It had been his punishment for his unwillingness to prostrate himself and be destroyed. 

Waving one hand at it, Poland continued, “Then it takes one bully to knock down everything you’ve built.” 

He felt like he could cry, but there was no use in that. The tears would not come anyway. He had not cried during the war, but for pain and frustration, and he would not now. He finished, “What use is it to build when the world will just knock you down again?” 

Saxony spoke, more measured than he usually was, “I know it isn’t the same, but I do understand.” As he spoke, he wrung his hands together like he was hardly aware of what he was doing. 

Poland looked down at them, and realized, even in the low light that there was a burn scar across the back of one of his hands. He was certain that had not been there before; he would have noticed it in those long hours they had spent together. 

With a sinking in his chest, he thought of a piece of news that had barely been important in the moment. 

The fire bombing. 

He had heard that Dresden had been bombed, and he had barely reacted to it. He cast a thought now to the glittering court in Dresden as it had been when he had visited. Saxony had been so proud of the art he had collected at the time. Had he been willing to charge into the fire to save it?

Saxony caught him staring at the burn and grimaced. But, he did not say anything to explain the scar.

Saxony looked out at the sky above them and said, feigning that he was only speaking to himself, “It helps to walk in the night. When I look up there, I am reminded that there is something endless and eternal despite all of our fighting.” 

Poland looked up at the stars, and tried to find some solace of it. But, it wasn’t better to think that there was a vast cold world above them. 

But, Saxony continued, “I remind myself that these stars are the same they were when I was happy.”   
Poland couldn’t resist the urge to respond, because this poetic litany was getting tiring. It made him feel no better. He said, “How does that make you feel better?”   
Saxony replied, his gaze still fixed on the heavens, “If these stars have seen me at my happiest and my most miserable, then I can be happy again. The universe is still eternal and my fortunes could change again.” 

He let the moment lapse into silence. Poland thought about what he said, but his mind was less on the words themselves than the poetic depth of his companion. He had always enjoyed the depth of Saxony’s soul; it was that of an artist.

But, perhaps he was right as well. There was a chance that things could change from here, even if the moment felt bleak. The moment of sympathy was touching in itself. But, he couldn’t muster another respond even with the other man looking at him.

Saxony shrugged, like he was letting his own expectations for this moment slip off his shoulders, “I hope that helps you. I would like to see you smile again.” 

He turned and Poland realized in a disorienting moment that Saxony had been saying goodbye to him. The man was leaving, and Poland felt like it would be harder without him there. His presence, often not the softest or more comforting, had its own charm and was so much better than being alone. 

Poland thought as he watched Saxony’s back that he did not want the other to leave, not so soon. He said, “Christoph?”   
Saxony turned again, a little smile at the corner of his lips. “Yes?”   
Poland said, trying to say what was on his mind but managing only, “Stay with me.” 

Saxony nodded in agreement and came back. Then without prompting, he took one of Poland’s hands in his own. It was not the boldest reconciliation, but it felt nice to be here together under an infinite sky that promised better days. 

Poland put his head on the taller man’s shoulder and said, “Do you still care about me?”  
Saxony replied, “I told you, Felix. You’re one of a kind, and you’ll always be special to me.”


End file.
